drowsy echo
You are the king of your empire,
Basking in the rays of golden sunlight,
Emitting confidence, ready to enquire
What the morning prepared for your sight.
The monochrome pages sit within reach,
Only a second away, just straighten your arm,
Yet pause, as one does before giving a speech
Letting peace linger in the air and charm.
As tangy boredom starts creeping about,
You give into the pull, do a favour to the world,
Peek at what brought joy 'nd what brought bought,
What had the tongues of your subjects unfurled.
Ink spills out of the black and white sea of information,
Filling the space with voices from round the earth,
Evoking the most pleasurable of short-lived sensations:
The illusion of your opinion being needed by such a wide berth.
But after a time, kingly deeds pile up on your shoulders,
Wanting for your mind of these futile flickerings be free:
You place the affairs in the hands of your followers like boulders
And close the pages to enjoy some peaceful morning tea.
storm laurel
broken mango